asylum
by Fruipit
Summary: two people flee in the dead of night, carrying precious cargo between them / they shouldn't be running, but they are / they shouldn't be afraid, but they are / they shouldn't be sad / ... but ... / they are ...
1. duality

_This is my first OC story, so please be gentle. If you actually read it. Okay, it has a weird narrator, but this originally began as a short NaNoWriMo project (a short-story project, that is). There are three chapters, with a fourth being an 'alternate ending'. Enjoy!_

* * *

I am almost empty tonight. This is hardly surprising, as even I can barely recognise myself anymore. Once painted with gorgeous greens and earthy browns, I am overgrown with weeds and vines. I had not expected to see anyone, but that is why I have been sealed up tight; on the off-chance that, should anyone stumble down the abandoned mountain path laid with dirt and pebbles, lodging is required. Tonight, two guests appear on my front step; a man and a woman, shivering under the light of the moon and the frost of the winter solstice creeping into their skin. I wonder why they are here—what reason would they have for taking this journey? After all, the winter solstice is a time spent at home with family. I wonder why these guests have chosen this time, this place, for their rendezvous.

With a click of his fingers, the man produces a small flame, and they step through the door. I rumble slightly as their footfalls tickle me, and it is then I notice a discrepancy. I try my hardest to hold still as new feet roam my empty hallways, and the woman clutches her stomach.

Why would they risk such a precious life? I already know the answer.

Because these people are their own family. I can feel their heartbeats echoing through my body, telling me everything I ever need to know.

The woman, she does not seem weak. She does not seem fearful, but I know better. She holds the man's hand in her left as though it were a life-line, and he leads her down a corridor, searching for a place to rest. They come to a door, shut tight. It is safe in there—I know. It is the only room not to be infected with the pests and vermin that treat me as their home. Perhaps I am their home, and I should not begrudge them. The couple face this obstacle of a door with surprising ease, and she creates a small hole in the wall beside it. I avert my gaze as they walk solidly through the small gap, only for him to push her against the locked door as soon as it closes, arms wrapped tight. He already knows what she has inadvertently told me, and my walls grow a little stronger as she whispers his name with such reverence.

Tonight is a night of celebration with ones family. The two lost people have found a family with each other, it seems.

I turn my gaze outward, wondering if anyone else would be coming that night to find themselves. I wonder if what these people are running from will find them. I wonder when the fear will give in to the love that charges between them.

I wonder if it can.


	2. hope

I am strong and sturdy. I have survived three earthquakes and a flood. The war, stretching on for miles and years and spreading throughout many more worlds than anyone can possibly fathom, has not yet touched me.

I feel it now, though, reaching out wispy tendrils. It clings to the backs of the two weary travellers; two travellers who could be considered three, who are lying together on a moth-eaten mattress, keeping each other warm.

The heavy vestiges of war creep along the icy road, marking a trail to my doorstep. I can hear, in the distance, more than just catowls and wolfbats. I can hear, through the dense fog that has begun to settle, the murmurs of men and the crackle of fire.

The small family is sleeping; they don't hear the strangers. I feel, through their heavy steps and angered words, that they are not out to do good. I feel, in their hearts, the anger that has been bubbling for some time has finally overflowed, boiling to the surface.

I feel that it is because of the small family resting deep within my belly.

They have not awoken, even as the strangers come closer, and it won't be long before I am seen. I don't know why, after years of peace, such sudden activity finds me, and yet I find myself not caring, either.

I give a small rumble, awakening the man. He kisses the woman on the temple, nuzzling into her neck. I am prepared to give another small shake—a creak—when he hears what I wished to warn him about. He hears the voices.

His heart thumps loudly, resonating though my walls and floors. I watch, agitated, the mice and other small rodents scurrying through my halls as testament to this fact, as he gently shakes the woman awake. They move silently, as he has not the courage to light a small flame to guide the way.

The voices are closer, loud and jeering. They're coming. I can feel them on my lawn, the vast, overgrown wilderness. One drops his torch, but doesn't bother to pick it up. I can already foresee the flames destroying me, and with it this small family who has sought refuge. They are under my protection; I cannot allow that to happen.

I time myself. I wait for the right moment. A door slams, and I throw up the entrance to my cellar. I whisper with the wind, leading them to safety. They pause, and I urge them on. It is not me who convinces them to go.

They hear the voices.

The men are at my entrance; they are stepping through my door. He moves first, entering the small sanctuary before taking the woman's hand and guiding her down the steps. I hold off the intruders as long as I can with debris and broken doors, but the number of earthbenders in the crowd prove my efforts futile. The man shuts the door only seconds before the enemy storms the room.

He kisses the woman, slow and tender.

They are safe. They will survive.


	3. freedom

Everything is still. Everything is silent.

Even the animals have halted, trembling slightly in the cracks in my walls. There are many more men than I had thought, and they spread out through me, kicking down doors and collapsing walls. I give a groan as a support beam is crushed to dust. One of them men hisses at the earthbender who punched through me, and he moves away meekly. I can feel the small family, deep within me. They tremble as the critters around them tremble. They shake as I shake, but they are together, and this thought calms them.

They are holding each other tight, his hands over hers, covering her stomach. They fear, but it is not for themselves. These people hold too much love to fear eternal separation. These people, they fear for the small life—the small world—they have created together.

Suddenly, one of the earthbenders stumbles over the trapdoor. It is a stupid mistake, and had he been even slightly more graceful, he would not have discovered it at all.

Everyone freezes.

Not a single breath stirs as everyone—everything—turns an eye to the wooden door with a metal handle. One strides over with thick, heavy footfalls that knock small crumbs of dirt lose. He bends down, grasping the heavy metal latch and tugging.

The door opens far too easily, and with a dark grin, the man steps back.

_There are thirty of us,_ he calls, _and we only want the Fire Nation scum. Give up, and your wife will be spared. We don't kill our own kind._ I believe his numbers.

I can feel the small family grow cold. The woman is shaking fiercely, and I can feel the small droplets of water that roll off her face hit the earth. The man looks at her, holding her face as he leans forward, placing his lips to hers almost reverentially.

_Be safe,_ he whispers, before moving forward with purposeful strides. Their hands part, and he turns to give her one more smile.

He doesn't know they are waiting for him with metal. He doesn't know they are waiting with smiles. He never knows, as with a glint of light and a heavy rock, he falls to the floor.

He is dead before he hits the ground.

He cannot hear her scream.

_No!_

She runs forward, stumbling over debris. Up the stairs she clambers, collapsing by his head as she gently picks it up, cradling it in her lap. The sound of her distress reverberates through me as she sobs brokenly over him. The other men don't leave, and although she tries to ignore them, she can still feel their presence.

The tears are falling earnestly now, and I can hear them. She stoically ignores the blood as it drips from him as she leans in closer.

_No,_ she whispers hoarsely, body wracked with silent sobs, _No, no, no. Don't leave me, please..._

Her hands dance around, finding his hand and pulling it up to his chest. She closes her eyes, unable to face his blank stare; she leans over, allowing their foreheads to touch.

_Please,_ she murmurs again, and even I can hear the lump in her throat. She wants to be alone to grieve, and yet the men don't leave. _I can't- I can't raise this child on my own..._ Their lips touch for the final time, the small piece of closure cut short as suddenly, she is wrenched to her feet.

_You won't have to,_ one of the men sneers. It only takes one nod from him to have everyone step close, grabbing her. She looks up, a choked cry escaping her as the blood drains from her face.

_You said you won't hurt me,_ she cries, trying desperately to break their grip. Her lip quivers as she glances at the still form of her husband. _You don't harm earthbenders! You _promised_!_

She makes the desperate claim even as her voice breaks on the final word, and she can't keep the man's gaze as she slumps forward.

_Please..._

He takes a step back, one hand on his hip and another stroking his chin.

_You're right, I did promise. Didn't I, boys?_ he asks his men; they laugh, already knowing what he has planned. He leans closer to her, his foul breath washing over her in waves. _I promised I wouldn't kill you because we don't kill earthbenders..._ he reaches a hand out, trailing it down her face. She can see the knife in his other hand, but holds her head up high. She has to be strong now, for both of them. The only family she has left.

The man watches her expression grow resolute, and he gives another grin. His hand continues its trail downwards as he begins to speak again.

_He wasn't an earthbender. He was a firebender. We don't let firebenders live. We don't let them escape..._

It is only when his hand stops, resting above her belly, that the colour truly drains from her face.

_No..._ she breaths, heart beating faster and faster as she forces shallow breaths into her suddenly starving lungs. Her eyes burn again with the knowledge of what he means, and her struggling begins anew. _No!_

The other men hold her fast as the leader steps forward, knife dancing in the moonlight.

_Yes..._

* * *

_And that's the end. I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter is an alternative ending, and isn't necessary to read. Let me know what you thought in the reviews :3_


	4. alternate ending: escape

_Final notice that this is an alternative ending, and should be read as though it follows on from chapter 2 (hope). Thank you!_

* * *

Everything is still. Everything is silent.

Even the animals have halted, trembling slightly in the cracks in my walls. There are many more men than I had thought, and they spread out through me, kicking down doors and collapsing walls. I give a groan as a support beam is crushed to dust. One of them men hisses at the earthbender who punched through me, and he moves away meekly. I can feel the small family, deep within me. They tremble as the critters around them tremble. They shake as I shake, but they are together, and this thought calms them.

They are holding each other tight, his hands over hers, covering her stomach. They fear, but it is not for themselves. These people hold too much love to fear eternal separation. These people, they fear for the small life—the small world—they have created together.

Suddenly, one of the earthbenders stumbles over the trapdoor. It is a stupid mistake, and had he been even slightly more graceful, he would not have discovered it at all.

Everyone freezes.

Not a single breath stirs as everyone—everything—turns an eye to the wooden door with a metal handle. One strides over with thick, heavy footfalls that knock small crumbs of dirt loose. He bends down, grasping the heavy metal latch, and tugs.

I tug back.

He grunts.

I groan.

_She's pregnant,_ one of them whispers. They all turn to look at him, glaring in expectation of an elaboration. _Well, th-they wouldn't waste time here. They wouldn't risk getting caught trying to open that door._

He gives a weak sort of shrug, and gets a rock to the head for his troubles. The silence that falls with him, unconscious to the floor, weighs down heavily, and it is only because of the interruption that they hear a new sound.

It is a faint crackle that until now, I had not noticed, my attention elsewhere.

It is the sound of all their fears, founded or not, and it is a sound that never fails to send men running.

It is the sound of fire.

The small, unassuming power that consumes and feeds, growing bigger and wilder; born from a small torch, it surprises them all, as though they didn't realise this would happen. Everyone freezes, torn between the desire to flee, and the will to catch their prey. The small family is bundled up in a corner of my cellar; they do not know what is going on, only that the banging has stopped and they seem safe for the moment.

The men want to stay to find the family, but the decision isn't theirs to make as a sudden change in wind blows the blaze towards me, the smell of smoke and ash carrying first before the sight and the heat follow.

_They won't survive anyway!_ one of the men calls out to the others, and a few others turn to the leader, nodding.

It is with a vicious snarl that the leader punches forward, the earthen rubble on the floor following his fist to land heavily on the small, wooden door, completely covering it.

_Let's go,_ he shouts, taking a deep breath and dusting off his hands. _There's nothing left here._ He gives a small grin, _And there never was._

With a wave, he orders his men to follow him outside. They escape the fire, not bothering to try and tame it. Why would they? I am far enough away from civilisation for it to not matter if the fire spreads—if I should fall because of it—because there are only two people who would be harmed, and their lives do not matter.

I can feel them holding onto one another, murmuring sweet nothings that mean everything. The fire gets closer, and they know it is hopeless to try and escape. Being with child has made her weak; even if they could burrow away, the fire, or the smoke, would catch up. Praying to the spirits is all they _can_ do.

But not all that can be done.

The clouds part slightly, and I can feel the rays of the moon shining down. There is a breeze, propelling the fire, but it suddenly stops. The entire sky is clear, the stars shining bright like watchful eyes, and suddenly, the flames begin to move. Not in my direction, oh no. They move away from me, moving around in a small circle. Only the side facing the men, though. Trees crackly and collapse under the intense heat, but the fire does not move closer. It dances just beyond my border with elegant steps. This fire is not being fuelled by the hatred of the men. Perhaps it was, once, but no more.

It is being fuelled by the love the small couple has for each other. It is being fuelled by the peace sought after by so many, mortal and spirit alike.

It is protecting them as they protect the small life they have created together.


End file.
